Moon Dancer

Moon Dancer, 1

This is a story of a relationship. No sex, no fetishes, not even toes.

It involves adults being adults, with a child as a natural part of the story.

We ghosted into the cove with just the jib holding the last of the evening breeze.

There was one other boat anchored, a thirty something foot power boat.

I headed a little farther in, rounded up into the breeze, and as she drifted back let the anchor slide down to the sandy bottom. Once I was satisfied we had a good grip I threw a bight over the fore cleat and rolled the jib.

I was sitting in the cockpit after dinner, watching the sunset to the west when I heard a woman calling from the other boat. "Hey, on the sailboat. Can I come over there? I've a bit of a problem here."

I didn't see a dinghy but assumed it was on the side away from me so I waved her over. She didn't use a boat, just dove into the water.

She swam the fifty yards or so and asked for help, so I directed her to the boarding ladder. She needed help up the ladder. That water saps your strength quickly. Puget Sound seldom gets above fifty degrees. "Damn, that water is cold." I led her to the pilot house, turned on the heater and grabbed a blanket from the cabin. She was just in panties and a bra.

"Tuck your feet up under you, they'll warm quicker. Why the visit?"

"That sonofabitch! Wanted me to fuck him like I was some kind of slut or something! Oops, sorry about the language."

When she had flopped aboard dusk was settling quickly so I hadn't had more than an impression of her. Now in the well lit pilot house sat a woman that I guessed to be in her middle to late thirties, wrapped and shivering."Why the swim?"

"Well it's a bit embarrassing, over there is my best friend and her boy friend. I was visiting for a few days when they asked if I wanted to go on a boat ride for the weekend. It seemed like a good idea, so yeah."

She looked over at the other boat and I realized I'd been hearing music and laughing the whole time since anchoring. It's the sort of thing you expect in an anchorage. As long as it isn't too loud it's just background.

"It turns out their idea of a weekend cruise was one guy and two women having sex."

"You're here so you must have objected."

"They didn't tell me in advance. Just assumed I'd spread my legs for Johnny Boy over there. I might have if they'd told me before, but they didn't."

"So you would have?"

"I didn't say that. I said I might have considered it." Meantime the noise, obviously sexual, from the other boat was getting louder and raunchier. "I'm certain I wouldn't want to be a part of that. But they tried undressing me. I thought it was a joke. Until I realized it wasn't. So I bailed. Damn that is cold water. Oh, I'm Margaret Hatcher"

"Let's go below where it's warmer." She dried her hair with a towel and re-wrapped the blanket, but they opened just enough to see her transparent bra and panties.

"I was just cooking dinner, shall I open another can for you?" A brief nod and another shiver were my answers.

Over a dinner of beef stew and crusty bread Margaret filled me in. "I've known Renee for over five years and she never hinted at something like this. Then she began seeing 'Lance'. That's his business name. He's one of those property developers who build cheap and sell high. His real name is Larry. Larry the Jerk. Anyway, I was down at Dupont visiting when they suggested the boat for the weekend. It sounded fun, I mean, I've never been on a boat before, so yaknow, why not?"

"So we buzzed around for a while and then pulled in here. That was a couple hours ago. Then they broke out the booze. I'm no virgin when it comes to drinking, but they were putting away three to my one. Some thing told me to go easy, and it's a good thing I did! But damn that water is cold. Nobody told me about that." So I invited her to spend the night aboard Moon Dancer. "I don't even know your name."

"Luthor, Lex Luthor. At your service. And you are aboard my boat Moon Dancer."

"I really don't believe you are Lex Luthor."

"Why not? I could be."

"You don't look evil."

"Would you believe The Penguin?"

"Not in the slightest."

"The Joker?"

"That I might believe. Why the fixation on villains?"

"Those were all I could think of. Just trying to be funny."

"Yeah, really, what's your real name? If I'm going to spend the night I'd like to know who I'm with."

"Fair enough. Mitchell, Mitchell Randall. But everyone just calls me Mitch."

"Not Randy?" She asked with a smile.

"Gee, I haven't heard that joke for a bunch of years."

"Sorry. It kinda slipped out." I dug out some sweat pants and a shirt she could wear for the night. I figured she'd go back to the other boat in the morning and get a ride home.

So we sat in the cockpit watching the stars come out and just quietly chatting about what ever. Margaret (please, call me Marge) is a commercial illustrator. She does the art work for print or online ads. Hates the work (stifling) loves the money (pays the bills). She paints when she can but things get in the way. When I asked what things she shrugged and said; "You know, life, things."

I told her about being a semi-retired electrician and home owner. About the boat being my, well our, get away. And how my wife loved being out at night watching the stars. And I told Marge how cancer took her way too soon. And yes my voice gets tight every time I say that.

A little after ten, with the dew settling on us I suggest we go below and get some sleep. Pointing at the first bunk on the port side I said she'd sleep there and I'd be in the forward bunk. "Don't be surprised if you see me up, I often check things topside."

"Blankets?" She asked. I pointed to the drawer under the bunk. "Every thing is in there."

"I hate to sound pushy, but I'm feeling all itchy."

I checked the gauges; "That's the salt drying on you. I've about fifty gallons of fresh water. If you can make it a quick rinse, sure." She was quick.

~~~

The next morning I was in the cockpit sipping coffee when the power boat pulled next to me. "We're outta here."

"What about Margaret?"

"You can keep the bitch, here's her shit." He tossed a bag across, hit the throttles, and powered away.

Marge stuck her head through the hatch. "Was that..."

"Yup. Tossed your bag over. I hope there wasn't anything breakable in it."

She picked up the bag, looking through it quickly. She nodded and then looked at me. "Mitch. How am I going to get home?"

"Dupont?"

"No. Federal Way. I caught the train down. But they were my ride back to the station."

I'm no hero. Truth be told the first thought I had was "Crap! I'm stuck with her." I mean twenty, hell ten years ago I'd have been all over having a good looking woman with honey blonde hair on board. 'Course Sue woulda slapped me silly If I really tried it. I'm a sucker for that kind of hair. But I had my ways now. Five years of taking the boat out alone will have you resenting intruders. Yeah I know, I let her sleep over night, but that's different.

But, there wasn't anything I could do but offer a ride home. "But, not until tomorrow. I was going to try for a salmon or two before heading home."

"Can I get a ride back to Federal way from there?"

All I could do was mentally shrug, I knew what I'd say next. Even before I thought it. "I keep my boat in Gig Harbor, but live in Tacoma. Unless you have something at your friend's place I can give you a ride home."

~~~

Let me just say here I had NO nefarious motives. Hell, I'm sixty five and she might have been middle to late thirties. Good lookin' yeah, but I was just bein' nice.

~~~

So Margaret, sorry - Marge, stretched out on the cockpit cushions, tanning. Fortunately, for her, she had a two piece suit in her bag. So Marge tanned while I trolled. Didn't catch anything but one small Dogfish. Tossed it back. Announced dinner was canned goods. But we chatted all afternoon.

She grew up in in a small town in Eastern Washington, went to a community college, then moved to Seattle for her last two years. Majored in art. Met her husband there.

She said she got pregnant almost right away. "Really not a good idea." He became a Traffic Engineer for Seattle, and she had a boy before becoming an illustrator for an ad company. After a few years they parted. It was amicable, kinda. Yes he pays support and gets his son every other weekend.

She asked how I met Sue. "I had a job assignment at the bank where she worked. I was only twenty four or so. Just made Journeyman Electrician not too long before. Feeling pretty good, yaknow. Being in a bank they didn't want just anybody wandering around, so they tagged her to be my minder. Hell, I didn't mind. She was cute, just a little younger than me. Good company. This was one of those jobs where I was coming back every week or so, and she was my tag-along every time. One day she said we had to stop meeting this way. I said fine, how about dinner. We became a couple within weeks. I never looked back."

"Was she beautiful?"

"Yes. She was small. Five three and about one hundred five pounds. Slim. Tight waist - she never lost her figure. Well until her last few years."

"God, I feel like I must look fat in comparison."

"Really? You're going to do that? Okay, stand up. Let's see how you compare."

"What? No, I was just saying."

"C'mon, stand. You haven't looked that bad, so let's see." Surprisingly she did. Slowly, but she did. "Okay turn around so I can see the whole package." I mean, I barely knew this woman and she was rotating so I could check her out.

"Hold it." She was facing away, and I was checking her butt. "Okay, have a seat."

She had this strange half smile. Like she'd made bet with herself and thought she'd won. "You're taller than Sue, by several inches, and have a fuller figure. But on you that's not a bad thing. You have lovely legs and a flat stomach. Medium breasts. But your ass..."

"What? What's wrong with my butt?"

"It's flat. I mean it looks flat, no tone to it. Like you sit all day..."

"Well I do."

"Get up and walk around. It'll help. Do twists to loosen your back. But walk."

"And that will help my butt?"

"Well I didn't feel it, that's just from what I could see."

 She jumped up and spun around. "Squeeze'm. Go on, give'm a good feel. I don't want any half ass assessment." All while looking over her shoulder. Like she was daring me. So I squeezed. And caressed, and patted and lingered. She never said stop.

~~~

We slid back into Oro Bay for the night and had dinner under the stars. "God," she said. "This is so peaceful. I could do this all the time." She looked around, "Why such a big boat for just you?"

"Like I said, my wife worked in the accounting department of a bank. I mean, she was always good with numbers. But she also had a way of understanding stocks. This was at a time and place where mostly men traded stocks. But Sue would study things and then say let's buy this or that. Of course she wasn't always right. When it comes to stocks I don't think any one is."

"Except Warren Buffet?"

"Maybe. So she'd say we should buy something, but we didn't have thousands to throw around, hundreds usually. But we bought Microsoft, and Dell.They were like a buck a share, so we'd pick up a few hundred. Missed Apple - she thought it was too risky. We did get CostCo when it was ten bucks a share though. Then we'd pick up more of them. She put together an impressive portfolio."

"With the money we made - we didn't hang on to everything, but enough that could pay the moorage with the dividends. We paid off the house and bought this boat. She was kinda sorry looking when we saw her. But Sue said that's the one. Had her surveyed..."

"Surveyed?"

"Sorry, inspected. The hull was sound, no rot anywhere. Damn well built. Just very tired paint and varnish. Sails were old and the engine wouldn't run. So we got her at a good price and started sanding and painting. Sent the sails out for replacement and had a roller jib installed. Brought in a mechanic for the engine, and replaced the water and fuel tanks. Ten years ago we replaced the head with a macerator and holding tank and rebuilt the galley with a new stove and freezer."

"But such a large boat for just the two of you? Wouldn't something smaller make more sense?"

"Our plan was when we retired take her down the coast, maybe go to Mexico. Maybe over to Hawaii. I'm not gonna do that now."

"So you sail around by yourself? Isn't that lonely?"

"I'm used to it now. When I'm not rescuing damsels in distress."

"I'm pretty sure I'm past the damsel stage. In distress?...You may be right there. And I do thank you. I think you're more of a knight than a villain."

~~~

We were up early Sunday morning so I could try trolling the outgoing tide. Still got skunked. Oh well. "How did you become an expert on women's butts?"

"We'd been together about three years, married a little more than one. We were cuddling one evening and I made a comment about how her butt wasn't as firm and round as before. Of course I'm thinking 'I shouldn't have said that', but she went into the bedroom and did one of those looking over her back things. She just put on shoes and went for a walk. Later she took up yoga also."

"And that worked?"

"After a while, sure. I joined her on her evening walks. Did me some good too."

"And the yoga?"

"I tried it but I don't have the patience."

About ten we headed north, trying to time for slack water through The Narrows. That's better than fighting four to eight miles per hour current.

We made the marina a little after one, and by two everything was sorted and covered.

Marge was getting antsy, but there are things that must be done.

We jumped on the freeway and as we crossed the bridge she visibly relaxed. Federal Way was an easy forty five minutes drive and then it was just a matter of getting to her apartment, and she'd said she had to be home by six. Easy.

"I really enjoyed being on the boat... is there any... if I could arrange... "

"What? Are you hinting at another trip?"

"Mitchell, Mitch, I haven't felt that relaxed in ever. And haven't seen that many stars since leaving the Palouse. Would you mind having company? I know you're used to being alone, but I promise I'll help. I won't just lie around like yesterday. I'd like to learn how to sail. And...never mind."

"How about next weekend? You could drive down Friday."

"Yeah, there's the catch. I can only do it every other weekend. I, ah, I split weekends with my ex-husband."

"Split weekends?"

"Remember, I have a son, Michael, he's nine, I have him through the week, and Jim has him every other weekend."

About that part where I said I'm no hero? And the part where I knew what I would say before I formed the thought? Yeah. Again.

"Do you think he would like sailing"

"He'd love it. At least I think he would. I don't know. What if he gets sea sick?"

"What if he sees you sea sick? This weekend was pretty mild. I've had some rough days out there."

"You go when it's rough?"

"Not intentionally, but that's what she's built for. Anyway that's not likely at this time of the year. You have him next weekend? Bring him down Saturday early and we'll just go out for the day."

"So you want me to come along?" She hugged my arm. Hard.

"You were good company, and you definitely look good in a bikini, so yeah." I flashed on her flat stomach and great legs. And honey blonde hair.

She smiled. "So, I'm to be a decoration."

"Nope. Sue looked good in a bikini, and when things were right without it. But she could handle the boat as well as me while looking beautiful. I'm not expecting you to take her place, just be a sailing companion for the summer."

~~~

They were at the house before nine. I don't know squat about kids. We never had any. But as kids go he seemed alright. Kinda shy, but eager at the same time. Quiet. Just watching and taking things in.

Marge helped me finish putting together a lunch and we headed for Gig Harbor. Before going to the boat we stopped at the marina supply store for a life jacket in his size. On the boat I gave him an indelible marker. "Write your name on the left chest. First and last."

"Why?"

"If we lose you overboard the Coast Guard will be able to identify you."

Marge looked at me totally shocked. "Nah, just kidding. That's your personal equipment. No one else can use it." Didn't matter it was the only one that size on the boat.

Marge looked at me like; "I owe you for that." I smiled.

Getting underway is the same routine every time. But I had a kid looking over my shoulder, standing at my hip, or trying to help. Bothersome, yeah, but I didn't mind. I walked him through each step and explained as we went.

First thing is fire off the bilge blowers I told him. "Why?"

"To ensure there are no fumes in the bilges - the bottom of the boat. If there are there could be a fire. Not a good thing." Yeah, I have a Diesel, less chance. but not zero.

While that's going on we stripped the covers off the main and mizzen, and me naming everything as we went. Then we ensured shore power and water line were disconnected and stowed. "Why not leave it there?" He asked.

"Things have a habit of disappearing if they're left on the dock."

Once the engine had settled into it's rhythm we dropped mooring lines and backed out of our slip. Michael in his brand new, bright orange life jacket was back and forth between pilot house and cockpit.

Once clear of the harbor I headed north-east past Vashon Island, and put Marge at the wheel while I raised the main and unfurled the jib. We had a nice north wind of five to seven knots. We were in the lee of the island so the water was like glass. Perfect for beginners.

I went below for a cup of coffee. "

MITCHELL!

"

"Yeah?"

"I don't know what I'm doing!"

I looked around, up at the main, back around. "You're steering a boat. Doing pretty good too. See how the back edge of the mains'l is vibrating? Let her fall off a little until it's just a small shake."

"Fall off?"

"Your trying to hold her to the course I set, but the boat will be a little more comfortable if you ease her off to starboard just a little."

"Starboard? What is that?"

I sighed and mentally slapped myself. "Mike, come here. Marge; there are four basic directions on a boat of any kind, all the way up to ships."

"Even aircraft carriers?"

"Yeah, Mike. Carriers too." And I pointed as I recited. "Forward is towards the bow. Aft is toward the stern or back of the boat. Starboard is to the right

as you face forward.

Port is to the left. We use those terms to avoid confusion when things get hectic."

"But how do I know where to go?"

"See that light house? That's Brown's Point. After we get past the ferry landing up ahead, aim for it. We'll make adjustments soon, but for now aim for that."

After we passed the Turning Buoy off the Point we headed more west towards the restaurants along the Tacoma shore. Now we began picking up a heel and the boat's speed picked up. Marge's grip on the helm noticeably tightened. But she gritted her teeth and hung on. Yes, I was close by.

A nice thing about Moon Dancer is her weight. Unlike a pure sailboat which is quicker to respond to wind shifts, and heel more, my boat is a Motor Sailer; mostly a sail boat, but about forty percent power boat. She has more weight and a wider beam. Plus when she was built in the Fifties sail plans weren't real tall except for the all out racers. Moon Dancer is Ketch rigged; two masts and three sails. She doesn't heel over a lot in the lighter winds. And I was just using main and jib.

We cruised past restaurant row, Mike in the cockpit waving at the walkers on the shore. Soon Marge had relaxed again as we headed away from shore. "I want to go to Quarter Master Harbor for lunch, but that's dead into the wind, so steer more nor'east and then we'll pull a tack that'll take us there." And I pointed to a cove across from us.